The Secrets of a Kuttite Part 45

Officers crowded around us in the mess, and asked us questions.

It was, however, very late, but I didn't go to bed until I had arranged a room for Satvet. My room I shared with a war correspondent from London, who was much on the _qui vive_ for news. I told him very little, and ordered Satvet not to speak to him except in my presence. This correspondent was very grateful for such news as we had to give, and by permission I drafted for him the first cable concerning Stamboul, for the a.s.sociated Press, which duly pa.s.sed the censor. He gave me much news of home, and wanted my experiences, which I didn't care to say much about just then. I remember that my first night on sh.o.r.e, outside Turkey, was so cold that I couldn't sleep very well in my tiny bunk. The next day I inspected the harbour and surrounding hills, where circular marks left on the black hillsides showed the site of the great camp of New Zealanders and Australians for the Gallipoli operations.

The giant fleet, including over forty first-cla.s.s fighting ships alone, lay silent and still below me. One distinguished the peculiar turrets of the American ships, the line of the Italian, and two big clumsy Greek cruisers. One's feelings of thankfulness of release were overwhelming. The vast a.s.sembly of ships stood for victory; but they were also invested to a great degree with a fascinating political significance that only one versed in Stamboul intrigue during the war could appreciate. Here was I with a long pilgrimage of loneliness, forced inaction, suffering, and sickness behind me, at last free. Yet, instead of rushing away home by the first boat, I found myself content to wait here at the door of the Dardanelles, fascinated with the phenomenon of the Iron Key about to open the gate of Constantine. Released from the perpetual convoy of postas, and paralysis, mental and physical, that is consequent on captivity, one might imagine I would be eager to look only forward. And yet, even before being re-introduced to the old world, I found myself taking an all-absorbing interest in the problem that I had just left behind.

That morning I made another long report to Colonel Temple, who was supervising Naval Intelligence, and I gave him the piecemeal information he sought, to the best of my ability. Enver and Telaat had left for Germany. A double of the former had cleverly put quite a number off the scent.

Many Turkish officials who were to meet the fleet and accuse the U. and P. as the source of the downfall of Turkey, were themselves sleeping partners of the U. and P. opposition to the Entente that had continued the murder of Armenians, sheltering of spies, even refusal to say who and where were the chief delinquents. This was all proceeding apace, _sub rosa_.

From what I had seen in Stamboul just before leaving, I thought the Turks there preparing for the arrival of the fleet much like a very naughty lower fourth form at school, hatching all kinds of devilries for the arrival of their new master.

Satvet and I had lunch in H.M.S. _Europa_ with Captain Pearce, who was exceedingly kind to us, and very sympathetic with Satvet's impatience in awaiting the reply cable from the Foreign Office. It was a very cheerful meal, and even Satvet bucked up, and eventually said he would hand over to me his emba.s.sy and all his papers if it would help the fleet to find out who was who.

Colonel Temple sent for me that night and afterwards had another interview with Satvet for Intelligence. He then kindly wrote me a letter saying I was proceeding home on urgent political matters, and immediate pa.s.sage was requested.

He asked with a smile if I would care to return to Stamboul with the fleet. I found that prospect, however, rather too exacting, and, besides, I seemed to promise more usefulness by going home at once. He informed me confidentially that the fleet would sail that night for Constantinople, and was very anxious to know what was the feeling there about the Greeks.

At Smyrna the Greeks had certainly sought to make trouble, what with their gigantic Greek flags and public demonstration.

That night the gigantic fleet prepared to move. In the early dawn of the 12th one heard answering signals. Their lights moved out to sea. When we awoke not a sign was to be seen of them. Only H.M.S. _Europa_ and a few dozen gunboats, with a cruiser or two, and some old ships remained.

The next day there was still no reply. I went out to dine with the officers of the Air Force, which was very strongly represented there. They were very eager to hear an account of their recent bombing raids on Stamboul. All the machines had flown from here. Afterwards I saw some of the wonderful developments in the plane of modern war. That evening some ships arrived from Dedogatch, and I heard much of the preparations for landing here in case the Turks further delayed surrender. And heavily as the place is fortified there is no doubt but that we could easily land and, with a march or two, cut off the Gallipoli peninsula, so depleted are the Turkish forces.

On the 13th Satvet went sick and was removed to a hospital boat. He sent in a short letter in French to the Grand Vizier, explaining how he had been held up. The next day he was better and got discharged. He was chafing about the delay of his emba.s.sy to the Prince. I now got a room for us both. There had been a tremendous amount of influenza in the fleet and I was not certain I hadn't got it myself.

I got permission for him to wire the Commander-in-Chief of the fleet in Stamboul for immediate leave, either to come to London or to return to Stamboul. In the meantime we made ourselves useful to Captain Pearce, now S.N.O.A., who requested us to visit a large camp of Turkish prisoners. Their work was to paint and clean the fleet with a host of other minor fatigues. They wanted to return to Turkey, as English prisoners, they said, were returning home. They wouldn't work, so we harangued them, and Satvet told them plainly what a state their country was in, how short of food the capital was, and what was more, how they had been betrayed.

They were sullen but ultimately agreed to work for a time.

They certainly looked fighting fit and fat, and well-clothed.

I couldn't help comparing their lot with that of our own poor fellows. Satvet then communicated with Tewfik Pasha, who now replaced Izzet Pasha as Grand Vizier, informing him that he had handed over to me the letters from Izzet Pasha for our Foreign Office, and for the Prince, and letters from a score or so of leading men in Stamboul to the Prince with other matters for the perusal of our Foreign Office and wrote that he would return to Stamboul. A telegram from the Foreign Office confirmed this.

CHAPTER XVII

I LEAVE MUDROS WITH DESPATCHES FOR ROME, PARIS, AND LONDON--ENGLAND!

_Mudros, Nov. 20th, 1918._--Two days ago we lunched again with the Commandant of the Base on board the _Europa_. The commander of the _Sikh_, one of the fastest T.B.D.'s in the fleet, was there also. He left Portsmouth the evening of the armistice and declared how England had gone quite mad on armistice night. It was wonderful to meet some one so fresh from home. He had now been to the fleet and returned. The entry had been magnificent. In battle line ahead it had pa.s.sed through the Dardanelles, sweepers in front, without mishap through the mine-fields, although two or three sweepers had been blown up previously in sweeping and the survivors of the crew of one had just before reached Mudros. The fleet pa.s.sed on to Stamboul in a solemn procession of battleships, cruisers, and light craft in line ahead reaching 16-1/8 miles. First came the British, then the French, the Italian, and Greek. The Greeks had most tactlessly hoisted huge flags but were promptly dealt with.

Then a detachment went to the Bosphorus while the main fleet went to their prepared anchorage at Ismid some miles off.

They are now preparing to enter the Black Sea.

I equipped Satvet with a few local luxuries and he went on board a steam yacht. At the last moment, however, owing to mines breaking away, he could not sail, and lay in harbour when Heathcote-Smith came from Mytilene _en route_ for Stamboul to a.s.sist the Commander-in-Chief. By this time it was beginning to be realized in Stamboul what were the difficulties, and Heathcote-Smith was glad to find out all he could about partisans there, and how few people were sincere.

The first Press reports were certainly misleading. Fitzmaurice, whose name was more than a terror to the Turks, ought to have been sent back at once. He had been First Secretary to the Emba.s.sy preceding hostilities, and knew a good deal of Turkish under-currents. On our entry, there was too much disposition to listen to Turks on the spot instead of sorting them out. Turkish exchange, so far from falling, is rising, and although we have landed a heavy force at the Dardanelles, the Turks seem all out for a "try-on."

Heathcote-Smith left that night, but Satvet's small yacht was still weather-bound. I have definitely taken over his mission and said "Good-bye" to him.

_RETURN_--On the 23rd I boarded H.M.S. _Rowan_, an armed charge-layer captained by the ex-chief officer of the _Mauretania_.

We were weather-bound for two days further. Then the weather suddenly cleared, although the seas were still heavy.

We arrived at Malta, where I had to report to General Temple, Director Intelligence Mediterranean Naval Squadron. He gave me a through pa.s.s to press on urgently to Rome and Paris, then on to the Admiralty and Foreign Office with a letter saying I was carrying urgent despatches and required urgent pa.s.sage. I took some despatches for him also. I dined that night with an officer of the Intelligence Department named Latouche, who afterwards played the piano to me in his rooms above the moonlight waters of Valetta, dotted with lights of warships. Then we saw part of La Traviata, made a final report to General Temple, and I slept in the Orontes with my despatches from Mudros and Malta, besides all Satvet's affair. A number of kind invitations reached me but I regretted I had no time to stay. One was from an old friend of Newcombe's who wanted news. I wrote to the colonel, who had evidently abandoned his mission at Mudros and gone to Egypt. I was extremely lucky in getting my pa.s.sage at once, as the gunboat to have taken us had to go elsewhere. We left at dawn. It was a stormy pa.s.sage. We arrived at Taranto across the barrage on the 30th, where an exceedingly kind letter and telegram from Lord Islington awaited me, congratulating me on being free and hoping to see me in a few days. At Taranto I found heavy blockage of officials, troops, and ex-prisoners of war, arriving from all quarters, all held up here in camps. Some had been here weeks.

I went on board H.M.S. _Queen_, where Admiral Hannay, having considered my papers, told me that he with his Staff was leaving that night for Rome direct and Paris. He offered to make room for me. We left that night about eight o'clock.

A great crowd of naval and military people, both British and Italian, came to say good-bye to the admiral. I was fortunate to secure half the compartment of the King's Naval Messenger, who proved a most useful companion. His frequent journeys had acquainted him with all the stopping places and cafes.

That night Admiral Hannay and several of his officers came into our coupe. We made a most excellent meal from various baskets and bottles, and they asked me an account of my travels in Turkey. I found it impossible to talk of any but the humorous side of it all, the serious history of these long, shadowy years being like night-mists over tideless marshes, silent, lifeless and secret. The admiral laughed gaily at the idea of generals getting C.B. (confined to barracks), and said I had had a most unique experience. We had quite a night of it. At dawn we were running through that delightful country of Southern Italy, of pleasant semi-wooded plains, dotted every now and then with abrupt little hills on the top of each of which stands a village crowned by an ancient castle, walled and steepled. The sight of these hilltop villages, familiar to every traveller in Italy, catching the rays of the morning sun I thought most wonderful. We ran past them for hours, dazzling like bright coins on a green carpet.

About 10 a.m. we arrived at Rome. The hotel accommodation was overcrowded. I had a bath and meal at the Continental Hotel near the station, for which I paid the best part of a sovereign. Then I visited the Excelsior Hotel with my papers, and later went to the British Emba.s.sy with some papers for Commander de Grey of the English Mission there.

He had just left for England, but I enjoyed a most pleasant hour or so there in conversation with some English ladies from the mission. Rome was delightful. I drove and drove and drove to feel myself free once again. I had tea at an extraordinary little cake-shop, where pretty women like b.u.t.terflies came and went. I smoked from my cab in the gardens. In the early moonlight I drove past the Coliseum, but quickly. It stood for history. I didn't want history just then. In a freakish moment I visited the Forum again.

That was history to be sure. But more so it was philosophy.

It invited one to peer into the Future. This spot that once ruled the world. This world now at sixes and sevens, that owned no dominion....

So far as Rome went, I quickly noticed a Bolshevist element in the Press, in the street, at the station. The nation was strung up and some were getting out of hand. In one quarter a fire appeared to be proceeding and some people obstructing the firemen, although I didn't verify what was the real cause of the violent rioting in so prominent a street.

I was now beginning to shake off the coma that had undoubtedly settled upon me. Of one thing I am sure.

Rip van Winkle, after his twenty years of sleep, felt much less strange than I after my two and a half years.

The station porters were all on strike, so Major Molson and I wheeled our barrows ourselves. He also was an old Emmanuel man and going home to stand for Parliament.

We travelled together on the same train as the admiral's suite.

At Genoa and Turin we got in touch with soldiers returning from other fronts. The latter place was feet deep in snow, and icicles hung from the verandahs. At Modan we had to change, and in the restaurant I found myself sitting opposite a face I knew well, and was very troubled at not knowing who it was. I had forgotten much. It was a Major Murray, from one of the batteries at Hyderabad, who had been with me before leaving India. I learned from him that a good many of my friends were casualties, the survivors all over the world, and that few had counted me as alive. He had been badly knocked about by a sh.e.l.l himself.

We arrived at Paris in early morning and again wheeled our kit. I learned here that General c.o.x, to whom also I was to report, had been accidentally drowned just before. He was one of the most brilliant Intelligence Officers of the Entente, and every one was deploring his loss. He had been a close friend of Colonel Newcombe, and apart from my intelligence duties, I had looked forward to giving him an account of the colonel, who had asked me to do so the first moment possible. This was only the prelude to many rude shocks I was to get. One might say that for me the casualties had happened in one night, for I heard news now for the first time of casualties that had happened in early 1915, and casualties had been going on ever since. The first thing I saw in _Le Temps_ was that Rostand, the great French writer, had died. Like Cyrano, he had left, so he said, to carry word of victory to the great French dead.

I finished my duties at Paris and left that evening. For a meal at the Cafe Amercain I paid a gold sovereign. The place was full of Americans, and all other places were also crowded. France was tired. Since I had left there in November, 1914, she had aged and the last of her pretty frocks had been put away.

As I was travelling on a naval pa.s.s they read me for Captain, R.N., instead of R.F.A., the former ranking as a brigadier in the army. This meant a seat in a packed train.

Molson and I left for Boulogne that night and arrived at dawn.

Other politicians were _en route_. The magic word was to be "Coalition." We had a long discussion as to the merits of coalition, I holding that in time of war it was good, as in home politics there was only the question of union. But when peace comes the international or foreign policy becomes constructive, and criticism in the ascertainment of the centre of political gravity is necessary. To me it seems true that many of the ideals of the war already have to be exchanged for the hard fact of compromise. Compromise is always bad and weak and muddlesome beyond a certain point. But the problems of the world I have recently left can admit of no compromise! The Turkish problem must be solved or left!

Boulogne also has changed a great deal. Hotels have become hospitals and it seems very English.

We left by boat in the fogs at early dawn, a number of senior officers returning on short leave being on board. I was astonished at the youth of many of them. It told me of the drainage of the war.

About ten o'clock I saw again the thin line of white cliffs--England.

A few quick moments and I stood on the quay at Folkestone. An hour later in a refreshment car! It was a carriage for the most part of silent men from all fronts. Out of the window, hedges, fields, crows, trees, England flew by.

I had a desire to get out and walk every yard. I had an impulse. No, it is too private to record.

I was free. England, England, England.

EPILOGUE

_Oxford and Cambridge Club, March, 1921._--The publication of the foregoing, which awaited the recovery of some of the ma.n.u.script from Turkey, has been still further delayed owing to my having been cut off from communications in Persia last year.

Several months after the Armistice I married, and with my wife returned to Baghdad, where I took up the post of Chief Legislative Draftsman to the Judicial Department. To have returned to the past scene of the events of my captivity is an odd experience, and my friends have asked me for a recent impression. This, however, might lead to controversial matters, and for such there is here neither place nor room.

However! On our return in November last year we stopped at Kut for two days. I add a last note from my diary.

_P.O.'s Quarters, Kut, November 8th, 1920._--We left Baghdad by train about 7 a.m. on November 6th, day travelling being necessary on account of the recent revolt. The whole line is heavily blockhoused. It lies along the route of our historic retreat after Ctesiphon back to Kut. Somewhere beneath the desert dust is the double trail of bones; bones of the men who fell in the retreat, and bones of the men who fell or crawled six months later in the captive columns.

We are staying with the Political Officer, a tremendously kind and interesting fellow. My wife was most curious to behold first hand the precincts of our doings in the siege, some of which I had described to her from my captivity. The foresh.o.r.e has quite changed. My artillery observation posts of sandbags, that once, tattered and battered with sh.e.l.l fire, defied the Turkish marksmanship to the end, has given place to a fine street, and this house stands where the garrison gunners kept a similar vigil, and where our flag, shot into ribbons, was hauled down on the fateful day. I had no difficulty, however, in locating many familiar scenes. We visited General Townshend's house, where, as the Jewish occupant explained, "the General issued his communiques!"

It suffered from our own guns after the Turks entered, and the minaret also was damaged by some accidental shot.